Seducing Miss Lockwood. Helen DicksonЧитать онлайн книгу.
‘When she accepted the position she took on an obligation to me through to the completion of this project.’
‘Really, Dominic, you cannot keep the poor girl cooped up here all the time. And might I suggest that in making her feel welcome you do not terrify her with your ducal intimidation. Make use of the charming aspects of your character. Do not drive her too hard. Remember that she is a woman first.’
Dominic scowled and, taking his sister’s arm, marched her to the door. ‘I will keep what you say in mind, Cordelia. Now let us leave Miss Lockwood to do what I am paying her a great deal of money to do and we will go elsewhere to discuss why you are here.’
‘Oh, very well. Goodbye, Miss Lockwood. I shall visit you very soon. You know why I have come to see you, Dominic, so don’t pretend you don’t,’ Lady Pemberton retorted as she was led away, unaware that the library door was ajar and that she was being overheard by Juliet as they crossed the hall to her brother’s study. ‘There is nothing that would delight me more than to know you have found someone to marry, a young woman who possesses the requirements of birth and breeding enough to make her worthy of marrying into the Lansdowne family and producing your heir.’
‘I know, Cordelia, since you never tire of telling me at every opportunity.’
‘You are the Duke of Hawksfield, so you must marry well for duty’s sake. I know you would prefer not to marry at all, but you are not getting any younger and you must secure an heir. You cannot go on postponing the inevitable any longer. Besides, it’s about time you made me an aunt.’
Eight years ago, despite the fact that Dominic was an only son and had not produced an heir to ensure the succession, his father had bought him a commission in the army. He had fought many battles in Spain against Napoleon’s army, his daring and courage in the face of the enemy earning him the reputation as an invincible opponent. Two years ago, after fighting in the battle at Waterloo, which was quickly followed by his father’s demise, he had resigned his commission and returned to Lansdowne House to resume the duties and responsibilities of a dukedom, and it was Cordelia’s opinion that it entailed taking a wife and producing the necessary heir.
‘Cordelia, as usual you are being far too dramatic. You have raised this particular issue many times and it is becoming tiresome. I am quite content as I am, and I want nothing to mar my present contentment—a wife would.’
‘You cannot continue evading the issue as you do, Dominic,’ his sister persisted. ‘Of course, if you do marry, you will have to give up your current mistress. You do realise that, don’t you?’
Frances was no secret, but it was not the done thing for a gentleman to discuss his mistress with his sister. On this occasion, however, Dominic wanted Cordelia to understand his intentions. ‘My choice of bride is not your concern, Cordelia, and neither is my mistress. I am not giving Frances up.’
‘Are you telling me you intend to keep her on after you are married?’ his sister gasped in shocked tones.
Standing by the partly open door, Juliet heard Lord Lansdowne chuckle low in his throat.
‘That’s what gentlemen do all the time, Cordelia. The English nobility, as you will know, marry only for prestige and money, then look elsewhere for sexual fulfilment. When I marry, the lady I choose will be well bred, healthy and gracious. I shall not be expecting to be made happy by it—which is where Frances will come in.’
‘Marriage may surprise you. You might even be made happy by it—as happy as I was with my darling Edward, happy enough that you will not need the companionship of such women as Frances Parker. I beg of you to at least try to find someone you could love.’
‘You always were a romantic, Cordelia,’ Juliet heard Lord Lansdowne reply with irony, their voices getting fainter as they entered his study. ‘You and Edward were blessed to have loved each other so devotedly—’
‘As you once did,’ Cordelia said on a softer note. ‘Amelia had everything—looks, breeding and style—and I know you were dazzled by her looks. It was a wicked tragedy what happened—to you more than anyone else—and then for her to die so suddenly, but it was over eight years ago and life goes on.’
‘What I felt for Amelia only comes once in a lifetime, Cordelia. You should know that. Anything after that is only second best.’
Neither of them heard the click of the library door as Juliet closed it to shut out their conversation.
‘You never did get over that, did you, Dominic?’
‘Oh, I got over it, Cordelia. I also learned my lesson. Never trust a woman.’
‘That’s a bit harsh, isn’t it? Not all women are like that.’
‘You are the exception, Cordelia.’
It was not in Juliet’s nature to eavesdrop on other people’s conversations, which was why she had closed the door without listening to the rest of what they had to say, but what she had heard told her more about her employer than she cared for. He really was a libertine of the first degree if he insisted on keeping a mistress when he acquired a wife, and she pitied the woman he would eventually choose to marry, but she was also saddened by his loss, a loss that had plainly been so traumatic for him that it had made it difficult for him to marry any other woman.
Over the days that followed Juliet embarked on the task to familiarise herself with her new position and to absorb everything that was required of her with all the determination and intelligence she possessed. It was a demanding task and Lord Lansdowne was a demanding employer. His secretary, James Lewis, a mild-mannered, middle-aged man, was indeed helpful in showing her the ropes, and Lord Lansdowne himself frequently came to the library. He was critical and yet at the same time he gave praise where it was due and was interested in the progress she was making.
Their encounters were beginning to disturb her. She was overwhelmed by the sensations he aroused in her. She could not believe how her heart leapt when she caught unexpected sight of him, the delight when he smiled at her. At the same time she did not like the feeling of weakness, of powerlessness.
Often he would come upon her when she was so engrossed in her work that she was at her most vulnerable, her guard relaxed. Without warning he would appear beside her and look over her shoulder. She would feel his warm breath on her cheek and smell the subtle tang of his cologne, and felt betrayed by the way her body responded to him in stark opposition to her wishes. His great virility alarmed her at such close quarters.
It was her day off, a glorious day, with the sun shining out of a deep blue sky and not a cloud in sight. With a book to read, an apple in her pocket and wearing a green bonnet to shield her face from the sun, she intended finding a quiet spot in the extensive gardens where she would be uninterrupted.
Encountering Dolly in the passage leading from the kitchen to the yard at the back of the house struggling with a large basket covered with a snowy white cloth, she paused. ‘What on earth have you got there, Dolly? I hope you don’t have to carry it very far.’
‘To the field beyond the stables, miss, where they’re cutting the winter wheat.’
Juliet knew the home farm, run by the competent Farmer Shepherd, whose scarecrow his Grace had likened her to, had started the harvest. True to tradition, the Harvest Horn was sounded each morning at five o’clock, summoning the workers to the fields. ‘Here, let me help you. You’ll strain yourself, carrying the basket all that way.’
‘Thank you, miss. I’d be ever so grateful. All the baskets of food have already been taken to the field, but this is full of some late pies just out of the oven. There’s a large workforce to cater for. His Grace is giving them a hand, so Cook wants to create a good impression by making sure everyone’s well fed and watered—so to speak.’ She gave the basket a look of disdain. ‘There are enough pies and pasties in there to feed an army.’
Juliet placed her book on a window sill, and between them they took the handle and went outside. The air was hot and sultry and heavy with the scent of flowers